APH: Viking Days
by PunkTeaCup13
Summary: When Denmark is forced to clean his attic by Norway, he discovers his old viking equipment and the memories come flooding back.
1. Chapter 1

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_My Denmark, England, Norway story. Yay for baby Denmark and baby England!

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Sunlight streamed through a single, round window into a vast attic. A spider slowly crawled up a web as a fly became entangled. The spider slowly wrapped up its prey and the attic was still once more. Suddenly, the trapdoor for the attic banged open, the ladder descending rapidly. Heavy footsteps came up the ladder and a man with spiky blond hair emerged through the trapdoor.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going! Gosh Norge you don't have to keep sicking your trolls on me whenever you want me to clean the attic!" The man shouted through the trapdoor as he pulled himself inside.

"Well maybe if you would do it without me having to remind you every year," responded his small, blond counter part, following the taller man into the attic.

Denny ran a hand through his hair and began looking around the attic for a place to start. He spotted an old trunk and walked over to it. He knelt beside it and cracked it open, sending dust flying everywhere. Norge looked over to where Denny knelt and raised an eyebrow.

"What's in there?"

Denny shrugged and immediately began to pull out boxes and bags from the trunk. Norge walked over and knelt beside Denny, examining the boxes. They had intricate designs on the lids that broght back memories for Norge.

"Den, I think these are from the days you spent bothering England."

"Really?"

Denny looked down at the boxes on the floor, the memories flooding back to him. He grabbed a box and opened it. Sure enough, there were ancient treasures from his long gone days as a pillager. He set the box down and pulled out a large box from the trunk. He opened it and smiled; inside was his old Viking hat. He pulled it out and put it on his head before searching around the box again. His hand hit something metal. He grabbed it and pulled it out, his grin widening. It was his first battle axe.

"Remember those days Norge? When you, me and Sweden would go bug the crap outta England?"

Norge frowned and stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of his sailor suit, his hair curl bobbing independently next to him. He put his hands on his hips and stared blankly at Denny. Denny looked up at Norge from the floor.

"What? It was a simple question."

"Yes I remember those days. Unfortunately, so do you and now you're going to sit here and remember it and you're not going to get anything done." Norge said with a sigh.

"I will get it done!" Denny exclaimed, he voice laced with hurt.

"Today or next week?" Norge replied sharply.

Well, Norge had him there. Serious, blank dark blue eyes met playful light blue ones for a brief moment before the dark blue turned away. Norge headed back to the trapdoor, leaving Denny feeling confused.

"Where are you going?" Denny called.

"Back to my place, there's something I need to get."

Norge's sailor hat disappeared through the trapdoor, leaving Denny alone in the attic. Denny looked back down at the small axe in his hands and remembered the first time he had gotten it.

June 8, 793

Lindisfarne, Britannia

Denny stood aboard the rocking ship, staring at the shore that slowly grew closer and closer. His signature Viking hat was too big and kept slipping over his eyes. He looked up at his dad with admiration and smiled. It was the first time his dad had let him come with him on a raid. Scandinavia looked down at his son and smiled, his violet eyes flashing with happiness.

"Look closely Danelaw. That's our target, the island of Britannia. I want you to stay out of harm's way while we work, alright?"

Denny nodded, "Ok Papa!"

The boat landed on the beach and immediately Denny's dad jumped out of the boat followed by hundreds of other Vikings. Denny followed suit, staying at the back of the group. His mind wandered as his seemingly innocent dad talked to his men. A loud cheer went up through the crowd as the men's personalities began to change. Scandinavia held himself back and spotted Denny at the back. He walked up to his son and knelt down beside him. He held out a small battle axe.

"This is for protection only, got it?"

Denny took the axe with a gleeful smile. He hugged his dad, thanking him profusely. Scandinavia smiled and pulled away from his son. He walked to the front of the group, feeling his berserker rage beginning to build up. He pulled out his own sword and shouted, running up the slope to a lone abbey. His horde followed him, shouting like maniacs.

Denny brought up the rear, still giddy with the excitement of being handed an axe. He charged up the hill and tripped over a rock, sending him tumbling down to the ground. He stood up and watched as his father's horde began to attack the abbey. He smirked and glanced around the coast, taking in everything he saw. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something small with a crop of yellow hair staring at him from a bush. He stepped closer to examine it only for the small being to bolt away into the under brush.

"Hey! Come back!" Denny shouted, chasing after the small creature.

He followed the small yellow haired creature through the brush, trying to keep up with it. Denny eventually chased it into some trees where he lost it. He began to search for it, calling out to it. The yellow haired creature was no where to be seen. Denny thought about turning back when he spotted something yellow sticking out from behind a bush. He slowly approached it, making no sound as he went. He leaned over the bush and smiled.

"Got you."

The small creature jumped with fright and spun around, its hood falling away from its face. Denny stared; it was a small boy no older than himself. The small boy had massive eyebrows sticking out from untidy blond hair, his emerald colored eyes shining with fear and defiance. Next to the boy was a small rabbit that huddled behind him.

"Shut up, you never said that he would find me. It has nothing to do with my hair color being noticeable among the trees, stupid!" The small boy shouted at nothing.

Denny tilted his head to one side and raised an eyebrow; who was he talking to, the rabbit?

"I know he has an axe, but I can't use magic against him!"

Denny stared, magic? He swung the blunt end of the axe at the boy's legs, knocking him to the ground. Denny put a foot on the boy's chest, triumphant.

"Who are you? Who are you talking to? Can you really do magic?" Denny asked him in rapid fire succession.

The green eyed boy frowned before answering, "Yes I can do magic you dolt! I was talking to my fairy friend!"

"Fairies don't exist."

"Yes they do! I can see them!"

"Whatever crazy. Who are you?"

"I'm Britannia, and you're cutting off my air supply."

Denny froze; had he really captured Britannia? He stood up and grabbed the boy's cloak, hoisting him to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm Danelaw. I came here with my Papa, Scandinavia. And you are my prisoner."

Britannia scoffed, "Yeah right kid. Now beat it."

Denny held up his axe threateningly, his eyes gleaming with miniature berserker rage.

"Wanna bet that I won't hit you with this? You will do as I tell you, now move!"

Denny shouted the last part of his sentence as he shoved Britannia in the direction of the ship.

"This is so stupid," Britannia muttered as he stumbled and grabbed his rabbit, leading them back the way they had came.

"You and I are going to be great friends," Denny said, following him. "The best friends in the whole world."

Present day

Denny smiled at the memory. He had taken England back to his father to show off his prize. His father had laughed and had released the small boy, apologizing for his son's behavior. England had given them all a dirty look, cursed them and ran off into the bushes. Denny chuckled; England had been so cute back then.

Denny leaned back and heard footsteps come back up the ladder. He turned around and saw Norge standing there, a Viking helmet on his head, and a battle axe in his hand. Denny smiled at his friend and stood up.

"What's with the getup? I thought you weren't remembering with me?"

Norge shrugged, "Why wouldn't I want to? I just went to get my things. I thought that you would like to relive some of those days."

Denny grinned maliciously and grabbed Norge's hand.

"Let's go."

The two ran back down the ladder and out the door to an old friend's house shouting, "Oh Arrrrrrrrrrthur! Come out and plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Well howdy! Sorry that this took so long to get up, I've had some seeeeeerious writer's block...well Merry Christmas and enjoy!

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"Really Artie, you should just come over sometime. It'll be a blast! Who knows, maybe you'll like Disney World!"

"First of all, stop calling me Artie. I despise that nickname. Second of all, it's not that I don't like Disney World, I'm just busy. Maybe some other time Alfred."

"Awwwwww…fine unfunner, but you owe me Disney World time the next time you visit!"

"Alright you insufferable git, I'll go next time. And stop butchering my language like that! 'Unfunner' is not a word!"

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line that brought a smile to the small British man's face as he held the receiver a reasonable distance from his ear. He hadn't heard the American on the other end laugh like that out of contentment in years. Amazing how those kinds of things never change, even after years of disuse.

"Well, I better go Artie. America needs its hero to get the job done!"

"Good bye Alfred," The British man responded, blatantly ignoring the American's pet name for him as he hung up the phone.

Sighing, Arthur sat back in his chair and looked around his house. He had spent the better part of the week cleaning his house over and over again, all the while avoiding the daunting task of cleaning out the attic. If there was one part of spring cleaning that Arthur Kirkland hated, it was cleaning out the attic. Being in the dusty room always brought back the worst memories and he always got sidetracked by them.

Glancing up at his ceiling, Arthur struggled to his feet and cracked his back. Either he was going to do it now or never. He grabbed a bucket of cleaning supplies, a broom and a handful of garbage bags before trudging up to the attic. He pulled down on the attic ladder's string, which slowly descended down to the Brit's feet. He ascended the ladder and pushed on the trapdoor before continuing into darkness.

Engulfed in pitch black, Arthur groped blindly for the lights, mumbling under his breath. He lurched forward, tripping over a small, dense object and collapsed to the floor in a heap. Arthur swore aloud for a few minutes before staggering to his feet and finally succeeding in finding the lights. Flipping the switch, Arthur was temporarily blinded as the small room filled with luminescence. Rubbing his eyes, Arthur turned to the cause of his fall, discovering a small trunk in the middle of the floor.

"Why the ruddy hell," Arthur mused to himself as he knelt in front of the trunk.

He grabbed the lid and pushed it up, releasing a cloud of dust into the air. Coughing, the Brit waved his hand around in the air trying to clear some of the dust. After the dust had settled Arthur peered inside the box, examining its contents. Inside was a small green cloak, a pouch of fairy dust, a pack of faded letters, a small dagger and oddly enough, a Viking helmet. Reaching inside, Arthur extracted the helmet and the letters. Setting the helmet aside, Arthur opened one of the letters. The scrawl was childish and in what Arthur assumed to be olden French. Arthur sighed to himself, remembering the letters that Francis would write to him when he couldn't be bothered to take the trip to Arthur's house to annoy him.

Arthur tossed the letter aside, finding several other letters similar to the first one. As to why he didn't burn those when he first received them was beyond Arthur. Eventually he picked up a letter with different handwriting. The language was unlike anything Arthur had seen in years and it took him a minute to realize the characters were runes. Arthur read the letter several times over, trying to decipher it and after several minutes he worked out a rough translation:

_Greetings Faerie boy!_

_Once again, my father and I have conquered your vital regions! You're so easy to pillage, it is quite enjoyable. Surely your meek faerie friends could have saved you by now. Maybe they'll finally appear the next time we invade your lush green lands._

_Your conqueror_

_Danelaw_

Arthur huffed slightly as he tossed the letter into the pile with the others. How could he forget that he had been Denny's plaything for the better part of a few hundred years? Shortly after Denny started invading with his father, Denny began inviting other Nordics to invade Arthur's home as well. Arthur shuddered as the memories rolled in, like many waves crashing onto a beach.

_850 AD_

_Northern Britannia_

_Crouching under a bush, Britannia attempted to catch his breath. He had been running for an hour, trying to throw of his pursuers without much luck or success._

"_I know Faerie boy ran off in this direction!" the nasally voice of his main pursuer Danelaw shouted, causing Britannia to jump._

"_M'be y'er jus' 'maginin' it," the slow drawl of one of Danelaw's companions sounded back, closer to Britannia than he would have preferred._

"_No I'm not Sve, I KNOW I saw him run off in this direction! You saw him right Norge?"_

"_I might have…I don't know it's hard to see anything in this blasted forest you Twit…." A third voice muttered, clearly annoyed with their leader._

"_Well I know he's here somewhere now spread out and find him!"_

_Britannia froze, unsure if he should stay still where he was or if he should run. As he began to bolt forward, a firm hand clamped down on the back of his cloak, pulling him out of the bush. Britannia stared up into the harsh face of the one called Sve, who stared back down at him with an intense look._

_Turning around, Sve held Britannia up and mumbled, "Foun' 'im."_

_Danelaw cackled menacingly and strode forward, a triumphant grin on his face._

"_When will you learn that hiding in bushes won't save you from us?"_

_Britannia held his tongue, refusing to look at Danelaw. Danelaw frowned and smacked Britannia upside the head._

"_You will answer to your master and conqueror knave!"_

"_Go get shot with an arrow you halfwit!" Britannia shouted at Danelaw, swinging his legs and arms in an attempt to hit his agitator._

_Danelaw took a hasty step back and laughed at Britannia's feeble attempts to hit him. Britannia huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at Danelaw as the other blond haired boy laughed at his pout._

"_Still just as foulmouthed as before I see. Maybe we should cut his tongue out to teach him a lesson…"_

"_Danelaw, your father forbade you from doing any actual harm to him and you know it," the one called Norge hissed._

_Danelaw and Britannia stared at Norge impressed and shocked that he had come to the defense of the victim. Danelaw nodded at Sve, who promptly dropped Britannia onto his butt. Walking away, Danelaw shrugged._

"_Alright, if Norge doesn't want us picking on the faerie boy we won't. Come on, let's go find my dad."_

_Sve nodded silently and followed Danelaw without giving Britannia a second backwards glance. Norge glared after his two friends before turning to Britannia. The Viking child walked up to Britannia, pulled off his helmet and dropped it onto Britannia's head._

"_Next time, don't hide in a stupid bush. You won't get caught as easily," he muttered before turning and running to catch up with his friends._

_Britannia stared after the receding trio with disbelief, one hand touching the helmet, unsure of what to do with it._

Arthur looked at the small helmet on the floor and smiled softly. Norge had been the only one that had showed him any mercy in those days and for that Arthur was grateful. Berwald had never really been much of a problem, but he was still intimidating and he always had a knack for finding Arthur. Sighing, Arthur leaned back against the trunk and closed his eyes.

"OH , COME OUT AND PLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" A familiar voice ripped through Arthur's mind and ear drums.

"It can't be," Arthur muttered as he ran out of the attic to the nearest window.

Looking out, Arthur groaned to himself and slumped against the window. Standing in his garden was Denny and Norge, each with wild grins on their faces and helmets on their heads.

"Come on Faerie boy, come on out and play!" Denny shouted up to him.

There was no way Arthur was getting the attic down today.


End file.
